Gaze Through Shades
by Candasaurus
Summary: It never took much to recognize them. Silver hair, like strands of moonlight. Amber eyes, like an ember from a candle. But, he was different. You would have never known who he was, or his lineage, given his ebony locks. If his sunglasses had not been knocked off that day, you would have been none the wiser. (working title and description)
1. Awkwardness of Affection

**(it's a working title!)**

The shop has always been a place of solace for him. He took leverage in the fact that he could easily hide away behind shades of black, and order a cup of coffee without the baristas, or his fellow caffeine consumers to take fear of his gaze.

It has become a part of his daily routine to take a break from his Work-From-Home job, and take patronage in the local café's home brewed coffee beans. He had not been too fond of the bitter drink before. But a particular, very cute employee, persuaded him to try her favorite concoction of sweeteners and creams. Converted, and now has his daily usual.

He almost felt, normal. It could almost be he passed as your substandard citizen. But every look in the mirror would remind him, of the genetic mutation sewn forever within his DNA.

Golden irises, that carved one to their very core with a frigid fear, and burning hate. The inheritance from a tyrannical ancestry that has become the vehement shadow of the world. A shadow he desperately tried to crawl out from under.

"Alright, here you go! Nice and hot, and ready to go!" An overly chipper voice cutting through his ever-repetitive thoughts.

Trying to stave off the fact he was completely spaced out, he set out to grab his bittersweet energizer. "Thank you," He tried, fearing he may have come off a bit curt, and promptly jarred a slightly more generous tip than he had planned to try and make up for it.

He had been a bit disappointed when his usual customer service representative wasn't present today. Not that he minded the others, he just, had his preferences. The curlicue haired, yellow donned girl they recently hired was just too much for him. Though, she seemed to bring in the male spectrum of customers flocking in. It made him think horrible things, that were very unlikely true, about the girl.

Halfway out the door, he nearly ran into his whole reasoning, if he ever admitted it to himself, he got out of the house for a measly cup of coffee. He prayed to the Lifestream that the hot flushed feeling in his face didn't burn into a noticeable hue on his olive skin, or maybe his overly dark sunglasses might have covered what might have been there.

"Van! Hi!" Alas, his trip went un-wasted.

Doing his absolute best not stutter, which of course he succeeded, he wasn't about to be bested by primitive, emotional fluctuations. "Miss Kairi." His matter of factual tone with a hint of gentlemanly conduct. Truly, he was raised too proper for this day and age of formality.

The freckles on her cheeks seemed to brighten, but he could just be wishing it so. He adored those speckles more than he could care to notice the stars. What a corny fellow he was turning out to be.

Trying to save himself, he tried casually, "Are you in for work now?" Saddened a bit that if he had waited just a bit longer, she could have been the one to make his drink. Whether it tasted the same or not, it's the mentality of the prospect.

"Oh, no, no. Not today. We've had a bit of a schedule change to accommodate the new hires. But I had a craving for Aeris' Lavender Cake. Selphie texted me she had made one this morning. My inner child demands it!" Chuckling at her own joke, she strode inside a bit to clear the door, and he subconsciously followed.

"Would you like to try some? It's really good!" She offered, gesturing to the counter where an attention seeking Selphie tried to get them to notice her.

Grimacing a bit at the thought of any more sugar, "I'll have to decline, I may be all sugared out after I drink this." Politely as he could, gestured to his untouched Trenta. Sleep was overrated anyhow.

Kairi had a bit of a giggle fit and just noticing his giant cup. "Long night tonight, Van?"

Part of him wished he could have had the courage to say his whole name when they first met, just to hear her say 'Vanitas' in completion. But he knew even if he could have had that chance again, he still wouldn't have. For paranoid reasons.

"You could say that, but it's more of my morning right now, regardless of how late it is." Finishing off his sentence with an impromptu sip.

A small ring of giggles and a chuckle echoed in the small café entryway.

"Well, if you still find yourself awake in the wee hours of the morning, stop by and I'll refuel you." She flashed her 'Satisfaction Guaranteed' grin.

Surely his face looked like it was fire by now, "I-I'll be sure to" Trying to cover up his stutter, he opened the door and the bell rang, hoping it would deter the attention from his voice giving out on him. Emotions were so trivial and hard to control. "Have a good night."

Without trying to make it look like he was running a way, he paced himself to a leisure speed until he turned a corner, heading back to his abode.

"You know, Kairi. You should really just ask him out already, or I'm going to for you." Selphie hollered out loud, almost loud enough to assume that he could possibly hear it.

Kairi skidded over, face full tomato. "Selphie! Hush! Can't you see he's totally not into me? I mean, we ever barely talk for a minute, that was like, the longest conversation we've ever had!"

Selphie gave a humorous huff, "Oh really? From where I was standing, no one else existed in his little world~" Coyly, she made a 'Crazy' gesture with her forefinger to her temple.

"That is so not true." Defying all Selphie had to say. Though she certainly wanted to agree.

Sometimes it feels obvious that he likes her, but then it could all be her misreading it. He acts the same around her coworkers. She just wished she had the gumption to finally make real conversation with him. But it's hard to read someone, who's eyes you haven't even seen before.

"You know, sometimes I wonder what tree he fell and rolled from. He doesn't really have any outstanding characteristics, aside from his taste in hairstyles." The on-duty worker opinionated as she proceeded to prepare Kairi's number one goal for the day.

"Hey, his hair is super cute!" Kairi countered. "It looks so light, and fluffy! Oh, I just want to ruffle and play with it! I wonder if it's as soft as it looks. It is so hard to tell with black hair." Taking hold of the offering of salvation, that is in the form of a spongey dessert.

"Besides, your opinion doesn't matter in this case, Miss; My man needs to be muscle defined and blonde." She muffled out between bites.

"Yeah," Selphie sighed. "Blonde guys are so great. "As she caressed the photographs of Zanarkand's featured Blitzball player.

Kairi couldn't help but add, "At least, realistically, my man is achievable."

A quick, playful slug in the shoulder, a fork on the ground a second later, led to cake in the face, and two coworkers making fools of themselves with the audience of café stragglers soaking up wi-fi.

 **Author Notes/Rambles**

Confession time. I haven't written anything, in a super, long, time. So I am so super rusty. So if you guys want to point out flaws, such as spelling, wrong wording, sentence flow, please feel free. I really need to strengthen my writing skills. I have slacked off way way way too long.

The characters are definitely... going to be a bit OOC. And I apologize for that. I'm going to be completely honest, this story isn't really planned out, drafted, scripted, etc

I am literally making it up as I go. I have a generic idea of what I kind of want to happen though, I've been thinking of it off and on. But nothing solid. And originally it was Olette instead of Kairi, because... I think Olette/Vanitas is kind of cute in a way, but, I haven't found a single person who shares that ship lol. So Kairi/Vanitas it is! Plus I really like this ship too. I have another fiction that's ACTUALLY planned out in my head and on some scratch paper hiding in my idea booklet... somewhere.. in my room...

Let me know what you guys think! And hopefully I'll keep to it! *fingers crossed*


	2. Backtrack

The turn-key mechanism of his front door locked in place as he settled in for the night. Having made his almost daily trip to the coffee shop, and the painful trip to the grocery store complete, he could now comfortably take off his sunglasses, of which he wore even during overcast, and walk around without and judgmental stares.

Well, at least for the reason he's been avoiding for the last year or so.

He can't help but feel overwhelmed with the fear of being found out one day. It's as constant as the sun rises for another day. But, he made the decision to leave his privileged livelihood, and take on the world of public society, and personal responsibilities of the modern young adult.

And, to get away from the piercing gaze and cruelty of the family patriarch. Away from a life that befitted the darkest of people. Those who care only for power, and themselves. A family, if you could even call it that, of darkness and causers of despondency.

Vanitas tells himself, he chose to leave, but in truth, he ran. It was run, or be absorbed into the organization. With no free will of his own, his mind sacrificed so his body could be used for the conquering of light by his Master. The now head of the household. His grandfather. Xehanort.

Though the world hasn't been active in its own magics, it was still there. Hidden away from most to keep the order. A choice made by the King. A King long since passed on and his descendants to maintain that order. By breaking it themselves.

We may live in a modern day, but the hierarchy is still in reign. Few, outside the family, are granted, no, permitted with the secret to accessing their rightful power. And even fewer, have a natural gift. Often drifters and vigilantes.

With great fortune, Vanitas came across one of the latter, and just in time too if you asked him, he was close to out of his saving, which he stole of course, and still had no understanding of the outside world. Thus, didn't know how to moderate his spending.

His name was Pence. He had become his best friend in the unknown civil world. And, is the only one to know where he originates.

In the beginning, it didn't seem like destiny was smiling down on him. In fact, he thought it was a cruel twist of fate in the beginning.

Pence, found, him.

He had taken a moment to rub his eyes on the corner of a crosswalk, and it was night time, no one was around. He figured he was safe. It was only for a moment.

Not even an hour passes by and he's approached by a motor scooter, in desperate need of a new muffler.

In a fit of fear of the King's Soldiers coming after him, after the figure riding the bike called out to him, saying he knew what he was, he bolted into alley way after alley way, the scooter always on his heels.

Pretty fast, for a moped. But Vanitas was faster. Of course that doesn't count for anything you're nearly starved and exhausted because you refuse to sleep anywhere in public.

He had been herded uncharacteristically into a corner. His lungs never burned more outside of intensive training. His knees buckled and he glared at his pursuer, trying to plot what to do if he were to be captured.

But alas, it was only Pence. A slightly stout, young man with an obvious alacrity.

Hurriedly stumbling over to the now collapsed ex-puppet-to-be of darkness, plopping down next to him to take his hands in his own.

"Finally! I can finally confirm my suspicions and hypothesis! You really are a descendant of Master Xehanort, aren't you?!" His excitement overwhelming.

Taken aback very abruptly, and still out of breath. With chagrin, Vanitas replied "… Yes?"

Pence exasperated with delight and jumped back up to dance out some excited jitters, to swiftly sit back down and interrogate his now cornered and increasingly confused prey.

"Not only do I have an exceptional amount of questions to ask one such as yourself, but I have been keeping a surveillance on you ever since you entered town, I have a photographic memory, and I have a record of everyone who lives in town, and you sir, are not registered! But as we can plainly see why now, I had my suspicions, and they have been overtly concluded to be correct! Now. Tell me…" He paused seriously after his hyperradical rant.

His heart was pumping so fast it reverberated in his ears so loud, he thought he might miss this next pending assault on his ontology. This guy was just so…

"Have you gone rogue?"

Blunt. Vanitas couldn't help but feel compelled to answer, with this amount of enthusiasm.

"I… have… I suppose, that's how one would say it…" He reclaimed, unsure if it were the proper term use of what he had done. His bearings slowly coming back to him. He should shove this kid aside and grab the still running moped, maybe he can find a way to sell it and get some cash before he starves…

But Pence, is unrelenting in his excitement.

"Ah ha! Yes! I knew it! I just knew it! I suspected that you were a 'Nort when you came to town because of your behavior! And your incessant need to keep your eyes covered! I knew, if I just kept an eye on you, you'd slip up! I sure am glad I hacked those traffic cameras when I did! If I hadn't, oh boy-"

All his banter was both amusing, and concerning. Vanitas had never met someone like this before. Though, one person in particular came close, but that sitar playing moron wasn't this energetic. But one thing still plagued his mind.

"Are you going to turn me in to the King's Soldiers?"

Pence halted his ramble to process what his audience just said.

"What? Oh, no, no, no. Not at all! I'm here, to recruit you!"

 **Authors Notes/Rambles**

Chapter two came to me much better than chapter 1. Probably helps that I'm not dealing with awkward romantic interceptions. Plus I really like the idea of Pence and Vanitas being buddies.

This is the most I have written for forever!

I might come back and do some rephrasing later, but knowing myself... that's not going to happen. I think for this fiction, I'm just going to write it for the sake of writing.


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